


Ruff Me Up

by CosmicBash



Category: Eminem (Musician), Machine Gun Kelly (Musician)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Choking, Collars, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Leashes, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 20:50:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20627345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicBash/pseuds/CosmicBash
Summary: Marshall and Colson have been hooking up for a while and recently started spicing things up in the bedroom. One day Marshall shows up to Colson's hotel room with a collar and doesn't give him much of choice.Just some emgk smut!





	Ruff Me Up

**Author's Note:**

> One of a few prompts I've been typing up in between chapters. Got way too many for this pairing and decided to finish it up so someone other than me and my pal could enjoy it!  
Also I definitely think Em choking Mgk is like a headcanon for me at this point but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

"Fuck no."

"Colson-"

"No, hell fucking no Marshall, you're out of your mind!" Colson's eyes are wide and locked on to the leather collar and leash hanging loosely from his partner's hand. Marshall is standing in the doorway of their hotel room with a completely serious look on his face. There’s a wave of embarrassment rolling across the blondes body as he gets up and actively walks across the room, putting physical distance between them. "The panties and shit are one thing, but-"

"Just shut up and get over here." Marshall dismisses his refusal, pulling the tags off of the leather collar. Unbuckling it as the door clicks closed behind him. Colson's face is hot, his hands unconsciously coming up to cup his neck. 

"Can't you just like tie me up again or something? We can even try that toy you got last week again.” He knows by the intense focus Marshall has in removing all the tags on the leash that he's making empty offers.

"That was too intense-" He's crossing the room in slow measured steps now. "This is simple." Colson stumbles backwards over the slight lip on the floor signifying the bedroom section of the room. He can't help but hopelessly scramble backwards until his back meets the foot of the bed.

"S-simple? It's fucking humiliating! I'm not a goddamn pet." Anger bubbles up inside him, much like the sudden will to fight that comes out in a cornered animal. Marshall looks downright amused by his panic, stretching the leather collar out teasingly. 

"Pet no. But my bitch. Yes." There's an attractive smirk peeking through stubble that makes Colson's stomach do flips. He hates how fucking hot the older man looks when he makes that face. 

Soon enough Marshall is stepping between his legs, weaving between them. Colson has to lean his head back and rest it atop the mattress to meet Marshall's gaze. His throat feels dry suddenly, this close he can see the rough texture of the collar gripped tightly in pale hands. He has no doubt it's probably made of real leather, Marshall had proven time and time again he’s willing to shell out for high quality items whether they're shoes, knick knacks, or even something as stupid as sex toys. 

"Trust me?" The older man's voice is gruff, his pupils already dilated slightly. The idea is apparently a way larger turn on for him than Colson had first anticipated. Feeling breathless himself the blonde can't help but reach up and grasp Marshall's thighs. The bulge in his pants is only a foot away from his face and Colson actually debates for a moment if he could possibly suck his way out of the situation.

But he doesn't, knows that from the moment Marshall looked down at him with those hungry eyes be was already going to agree. "Fucking have to, don't I?"

Marshall's smirk grows into a full on smile, perfect teeth showing and looking dangerous as he crouches down to drop the leash onto the bed. Colson's can't hold in the gasp that slips out when the leather meets the back of his neck, Marshall's rough fingers threading through his short hair to tilt him forward. Then they leave with a lingering tug and the collar slowly wraps around the rest of his throat. His eyes fluttering closed while Marshall works on looping it through the buckle and then tightening it. 

To his surprise the brunette doesn't secure it flush to his skin, leaving just enough slack for it to slide down a tad when he finishes. The collar rubs against his skin as he swallows, catching on the bob of his adams apple. Colson doesn't open his eyes until a hand gently glides through his hair. Marshall is still smiling down at him. His grin having faded into something fonder, it tugs at something deep in Colson's chest. "Happy?"

"Looks good on you, is it too tight?" A finger slips between the collar and Colson's neck, it's a tight fit and puts enough pressure on his throat to make his breath catch. In response he slides his hands up Marshall's thighs and hooks his fingers in his belt loops. He still feels embarrassed by the whole situation, but that doesn't mean he isn't feeling slightly turned on too.

They had discovered early on when their sex was more like hatefucking that Colson had a bit of a kink for being choked. The older man's hand around his throat alone enough to draw out a moan some days. If he can get past the demeaning aspect of wearing a collar he imagines he could easily find it hot, afterall it wasn't much different from the skinny chokers he wore from time to time with his outfits, right?

"Blow me," The fingers in his hair tighten slightly, tugging his short bleach blonde locks forward. Colson knows he wants him to just pull it out and get to work but he can't help but tease the older man. Pulling him forward he sucks at the straining bulge through the thick denim. His teeth digging in and nibbling around the shape, the blonde slips his hands down and grips the back of Marshall's thighs.

Even through the denim Colson can feel the heat against his tongue. The material growing dark from his spit. Marshall's fingers loosen and start to massage his scalp for a moment, their gaze meeting. Colson holds eye contact as his teeth find the zipper, tugging it down in one slow motion. He gives one last squeeze to Marshall's thighs before popping the button on his jeans. 

It's easy work to slide them down, Colson swallows back a lump in his throat when the mans clothed erection comes into view. He has a love hate relationship with blow jobs, on one hand he really fucking despises how demeaning it feels to be on his knees and on the other he adores how much control he can exert over Marshall in the position. The better he gets at it the weaker the older man becomes to his actions, Colson finding the noises he can draw out from the usually calm and collected rapper a huge turn on. 

A soft sigh escapes Marshall's lips when he finally tugs down the last piece of fabric exposing him fully. Then the blonde is licking a strip up the underside of the cock before him when he both feels and hears the click of the leash. He can feel the experimental tug Marshall gives once it's in place, just the lightest of pulls. Then he does it again, with more force and Colson's head is being pulled a fraction to the side, causing him to miss his next lick and the tip of Marshall's cock to lightly bump against his cheek. It leaves a sticky trail of precum in its wake. Colson feels a prickle of irritation and lets his partner know by shooting him a glare. 

His heart flutters from the way Marshall is staring down at him, lips looking like they want to break out into a smile once again. There's a firmer tug this time, calloused hands winding the leash around scarred knuckles. Before he knows it the leash is being yanked, his back stretching out to relieve some of the pressure on his throat. Marshall takes a step closer, his knees lightly grazing Colson's chest, pinning the taller man against the bed. "Open your mouth,"

The order has his cheeks flushing, a defiant look crossing his face. It wouldn't be as enjoyable if he just went along with everything the older man wanted. So he bares his teeth to the other man like a threatened dog, grunting when the lead is pulled tighter, the force actually lifting his ass off the ground. With the other man so close and standing between his legs he can't scramble to his knees and lift himself up to reduce the pressure. Instead his fingers find purchase on the soft skin of his partners thighs, nails digging in lightly as he tries to follow the pull of his collar. 

Marshall grunts and tugs just the tiniest bit harder which breaks Colson's resolve to keep his mouth closed. The action knocking a gasp for air out of him, the older man quick to use the opening to guide his cock inside. As soon as it passes his lips the tight grip is released, his body sliding back down against the bed. 

Colson breathes in hard through his nose, hands sliding up to grip Marshall's hips while his jaw stretches. The first slide into his mouth is slow, too dry to glide in easily. He swirls his tongue around as much of it as he can just to wet it. Halfway down he needs to pull back, stopping when only the tip is in his mouth so he can suck his tongue around it like a lollipop. The action makes a grunt escape the body before him, looking up he can see Marshall's eye's begin to squint. How his own tongue darts out to wet his lips while he watches the blonde below him pull off and lick strips up and down the length of his cock. 

Once things are sufficiently wet Colson goes about bobbing his head, the slick member in his mouth sliding in and out with ease. His fingers are lightly digging into Marshall's hips, holding back the weak attempts to shift forward. There is a hand coasting through his hair once again, not pulling or gripping, just petting. With the collar around his neck the action feels more demeaning then comforting like it usually is. He wonders if Marshall is intending for it to be that way. 

Closing his eyes he focuses on breathing through his nose as he takes the hard length deeper, his throat struggling to relax at first. Every swallow rubs the skin over his Adam's apple against the leather of the collar, creating an itchy friction. His own dick is straining in his sweats, tenting and staining the light fabric. A damp spot seeping through where his head is pressed tight, he had learned his lesson about wearing skin tight pants the first dozen times they started hooking up. The fashionable apparel causing too much hassle and time to be worth wearing when he is around Marshall. They are better reserved for occasions when they can't touch or don't have time to actually fuck, a simple way for him to tease the older man with little effort. 

A well timed swipe of his tongue over the head and his right hand slipping back to squeeze the older rappers ass have Marshall groaning, his hips stuttering forward to fuck Colson's throat. The fingers in his hair tightened suddenly, blonde locks being pulled just this side of painful to angle his head back further. His neck stretching out and rubbing against the collar while Marshall finally begins fucking his mouth earnestly. 

Colson's fingers slide down to spread out across muscled thighs before him, scraping down and leaving red stripes. His own hips are stuttering upward, eager for some kind of friction. Another pull on his hair and the back of his head meets the edge of the mattress, Marshall stumbling impossibly closer, free hand fisting into the sheets next to Colson's head. The angle makes him choke, the combination of cock down his throat and the tightness of the collar around his neck cutting off his air flow. Marshall ignores the strangled sound it produces and continues his punishing thrusts, fucking Colson's mouth fast to chase his release. The blondes hands come up to try and hold back his hips, fingers digging into the pale skin there hard enough to leave bruises. 

Tears are gathering in the corner of his eyes and his body is just starting to panic when Marshall suddenly pulls back. Hot jets of come shooting down his throat and splattering against his face while he coughs and sucks in air. The lack of warning has him choking and struggling to swallow what had landed in his mouth. Harsh gasps wracking his body as he brings his hands up to pull at the leather around his throat. "F-fuck," Colson's voice is scratchy.

The hand in his hair loosens and resumes its previous petting, Marshall's icy blue eyes meeting his while the man works to catch his own breath. A satisfied smile crossing his parted lips as he leaned back, jeans and underwear being tugged back up over his hips. "Good boy,"

The praise has Colson's ears burning, his throat struggling to swallow against the tight grip of leather. Despite how humiliated he feels his cock still twitches and aches for attention, but before he can attend to it he the leash is being tugged, pulling his head back once again. It stretches his throat out and makes his eyes squeeze half shut, heart speeding up when he finally notices the Iphone Marshall has pulled out. The older man leering at him from behind the device before a flash blinds Colson, then it's followed by a command. "Open your mouth."

The words sends an electrical shock straight to his cock, his mouth falling open and tongue sneaking out to display the white sheen that coated the inside of his mouth. He can remember taking similar pictures of girls he hooked up with on past tours, the mental image of how filthy he probably looked making him ache. Pictures were something they had discussed before, Marshall not taking much interest outside of the nudes they traded while apart. The older man complained that it didn't seem worth the time it would take for them to stop mid fuck to find his phone and take a blurry photo when he could just get off to the real thing whenever the urge came.

For Colson ilming himself had always been a turn on, having grown up when sex tapes were more scandalous, something dirty you wouldn't see being casually discussed on the news or jumpstarting multimillionaire empires like today. Maybe some of it was his own narcissism shining through, he wasn't shy or afraid to admit how hot he found himself afterall. Especially when he was fucking some broad. He just didn't expect to find being on the receiving end so goddamn hot. 

A groan rattles out of his mouth and his fingers slide up Marshall's shirt, he needs to wipe off his face and crush his lips to the other man's. Slip his tongue past thin lips to force him to taste himself.

"Fucking cum slut," Marshall's voice is deeper, still on the edge of breathless as he releases the leash and lightly tosses his phone onto the bed. Colson pulls his hands back to rub at the slightly sore skin around his neck and swallows. Making a face at the salty taste, he curses under his breath. He hated when he didn't have a chance to spit, the taste coating his tongue and throat for the rest of the night until Marshall gave him the chance to steal a drink or rinse out his mouth. The alternative of having him finish on his face is just as bad however, the cooling splashes feeling thick and hot against his cheeks. Not to mention the one time it had actually got in his eye, the older rapper not offering any help while he swore and ran his head under a bathroom sink, just laughing. 

Before he can make any attempt to wipe the sticky mess off of his face on the brunette's jeans a shirt pops into view. Glancing up he can see Marshall now shirtless standing above him, the gray article hanging loosely from his fingers like a peace offering. Colson knows it’s as close to a silent apology as he will get from the older man and can’t help but feel a tiny bit grateful as he uses the shirt like a towel. Spitting a few times into it to try and clear out his mouth before tossing it to lay somewhere across the room. 

Marshall backs out from between his legs and drops his jeans once again, this time letting them fall all the way down so he can kick them off. Colson's dick twitches in anticipation. The sight of muscled calves and thighs before him making him thirstier than ever. At least once a week he would argue with himself about how he needed to pick up running like his partner. It was such a simple low effort workout yet he can never drag himself past a hangover or away from the tour bus to actually do it. Just weightlifting with Rook and the gang inconsistently enough to maintain what lean muscle he does have.

Marshall silently strides away, over to the mini fridge. Colson had just slipped his fingers under his sweats to lightly grip his hard on, so pent up even the light touch knocks a groan out of him, when Marshall comes back and holds the cold bottle against his neck. The sudden icy touch makes him gasp and squeeze, his hips thrusting upward. "S-shit! Dont- don't do that." He can't stop himself from continuing to jerk. Chest heaving, and goosebumps breaking out as the older rapper drags the bottle down his front. The condensation leaving a wet trail in its wake. 

Throwing all care to the wind he drops his head back against the bed, eyes fluttering closed as his other hand slips down to roll his balls between his fingers. Marshall is still dragging the cold water bottle across his chest, holding it over his nipple which startles out a gasp. It only encourages the man to repeat the action with the other, the fingers from his free hand reaching out to tweak and lightly pull at the hard nubs. It has Colson biting his lip almost hard enough to draw blood, as he desperately tries to muffle his own moans. 

"Haven't even gotten to touch you yet, and look how fucked you are from just sucking my cock." Marshall sounds smug, and Colson groans, cursing the older man in response. 

"Fuck...you.." He's breathless, his body feels like a top wound too tight. Ready to snap and spin at any moment, he blames it on the week between their last rendezvous. Everyday had been packed full of interviews, photoshoots, meetings just so much shit that he barely had time to take a piss in peace let alone jerk off. He still refuses to admit the collar was actually really turning him on, not after the show he made out of not wanting to wear it. 

"Thirsty?" The blonde hears the crack of a seal and finally opens his eyes, Marshall is taking a sip from the bottle. Blue eyes locking onto his own, Colson's mouth suddenly feels dry. His gaze following the drip of water that escapes the corner of the older man’s mouth. 

He rolls his tongue in his mouth before finally releasing himself and groaning out a too needy "yes."

Before he can grab the bottle Marshall tugs it out of his reach, a mischievous look now crossing his face. Suddenly Colson is being tugged forward by the leash, Marshall wrapping it around his hand several times to pull it tight. With how the brunette is crouching he towers over the sitting Colson, pulling the lead up so it tilts the blonde’s head back, knuckles brushing against his chin. "Dogs can't drink on their own."

Embarrassment floods him from the implication alone, he almost thinks the shorter man is joking, but then there is an opened bottle hovering over his face. Another command tickling his ears. "Say ah." 

Colson doesn't get a chance to even respond because suddenly there’s a thin stream of water pouring over his mouth and chin. He sputters and coughs for a minute before obediently sticking out his tongue and swallowing as much as he can. It’s dripping all down the lower half of his face, splashing off his own skin and rolling down his neck. As annoyed as he is with Marshall he's also relieved to be getting a drink, the maid could worry about the mess in the morning. A stray drop bounces into his eye forcing him to close them both and just swallow.

After a few more seconds the stream stops and before he can even finish licking his lips there's a tongue darting into his mouth. The grip on his collar worsening, making him groan into the filthy kiss. Both of their tongues are cold from the water, it feels tingly inside his hot mouth. Colson can't stop himself from sliding his hands up to cup the older man’s neck and tug lightly at the short cropped hair on the back of his head. Pulling him inconceivably closer, and moaning into his mouth when the grip on his collar is released and rough hands slide over his body. One sliding over his throat to cup the back of his neck and the other brushing over a nipple.

They part when Marshall pulls him back by his hair, both breathing heavily, eyes locked together. Colson can't help but dart forward and steal one last kiss, his nails digging into the scalp beneath them. He smirks when Marshall lets out a low groan and pushes him back against the bed. "Get on the bed."

Excitement floods Colson's veins and he scrambles up and backwards onto the mattress. He's more than ready to finally come, his fingers hooking in his sweatpants and tugging them down so he can kick them off. While scooting back his fingers brush the shirt he had been wearing before the older man arrived. It's a bright yellow long sleeve that he doesn't want to ruin. He debates for a second before just chucking it up by the pillows. 

"Always eager to please, you want your treat that bad?" Marshall's chuckling in a way that makes Colson's heart beat faster, approaching the foot of the bed while gripping his steadily growing erection through his briefs. Colson doesn't even care how slutty he must look, legs wide open, body propped up on its elbows. The leash hanging limply from his collar, trailing down his chest and ending next to the inside of his thigh. He's leaking, precum gathered at the tip of his dick and almost sparkling in the low lighting of the room. 

The blonde's breath hitches when Marshall snags his phone off the bed and holds it out to take a picture. A flush is spreading down his neck from the filthiness of it all, still he can't help but bite his lip and tilt his head back just a tiny bit. Catching the way Marshall's eyebrows raise for a half second before he smirks. Another flash lights up the rooms, followed by two more. Colson drops his head back and runs a hand through his hair during the last picture, his heart pounding in his chest. 

"Fuck," Marshall is the one who curses this time, sounding slightly breathless as he finally climbs onto the bed. Crawling up between Colson's long legs, stopping only to bite a mark into one soft thigh. The moan it draws from him has his legs twitching, Marshall's hands are dragging slowly up his lower stomach, the leash casually being snagged as they follow the V lines of his hips. Colson isn't surprised when he's pulled into a kiss, his mouth opening easily for their tongues to tangle.

Marshall's thighs brush the inside of his own and he can't help but thrust upwards to try and brush their cocks together. His attempt is rewarded with a hand pushing his hip down into the bed and a bite to his lip, the brunette breaking their kiss to trail kisses down his chin.The older rapper begins sucking a hickey below his jaw and that's what breaks him, his legs hooking behind the other's knees knocking him forward and bringing their cocks together.

His upper body collapses backwards with Marshall following, his teeth sinking into the soft skin of Colson's neck. The blonde only gets a few mind numbing thrusts in before the rapper recovers and sits back, hands flying to pin Colson down at the neck and hip. His fingers dig into the tight flesh of his side and Colson actually lets out a whine, what little thrusting he can do only meeting air. "F-fuck Marshall."

Using the older man's first name isn't fair and he knows it, knows how much it turns him on to hear. But he's never been one to care about playing fair, the field isn't level anyway with him wearing the collar. Colson just knows he needs for things to get moving, for them to fuck or grind, whatever the hell gets his dick off.

"Keep that up and I'll have to punish you." The hand at his throat presses down slightly, a thumb slipping up and under the collar to stroke the sore skin beneath it. Colson groans again, this time from irritation instead of pleasure. He's losing his patience quickly, and let's the other man know. 

"Yeah well, get the fuck on with it. I'm gonna get blue balls at this rate," Colson slips a hand down and strokes himself twice, his eyes slipping closed and a pained groan leaving him when Marshall pulls his hand away. Fingers dig into his wrist so tightly he knows they're going to bruise. 

The look Marshall is giving him makes his breath catch, it's that damn scary serious stare he does. Even if Colson knows he hasn't actually pissed the older man off yet it still makes him nervous. His own eyes widening and a shiver of arousal shooting through his body. "On your knees." 

Colson doesn't hesitate to scoot further up the bed and sit all the way up, he's expecting to get his face fucked but instead Marshall tugs the leash and twirls his finger around. "No, doggy style."

The position takes on a whole other meaning with the collar tight around his throat, suddenly making Colson feel embarrassed. Irritated with himself he pushes through the way his stomach is knotting and turns around, they've done it in the position a dozen times. The only difference between those times and now was how more fluid the action was, them transitioning into it during a makeout session or halfway through a round. However doing it this way with no proper build up has him feeling exposed, acutely aware of how it takes away most of his control. 

A slap to his ass startles him out of his thoughts and angers him again. "Hey!" Looking over his shoulder he's even more surprised to see that Marshall has his phone out once again. The sight actually has him sitting up and twisting to cover the camera. "What the hell? Didn't you take enough fucking pictures today?" 

A flash momentarily blinds him and he can feel how hot his cheeks have become, annoyance peaking as he slaps the phone out of his partner's hand. Marshall's smirk widens and Colson's wrist is snatched up, twisting his arm behind his back and pressing him face down into the bed. The blonde hollers a few muffled curses into the pillow and struggles when Marshall climbs on top of him, pinning his legs shut and pressing his cock against the curve of Colson's ass. 

He puts out a few halfhearted wiggles before just relaxing and trying not to panic out how the hand in his hair can easily just keep holding him there and smother him to death. Marshall's question from before they started rings out in his head and he releases what air is left in his lungs to sink into the bed. As crazy as the asshole is he does trust him, so far anytime things went too far for the blonde he actually stopped.

The hand in his hair loosen into a soft pet like he hopes and he finds no resistance when he goes to lift his head and turn it to the side to suck in lungfuls of oxygen. At least in this position he can grind his dick into the bed, which only further helps to calm him down. Every slow twitch of his hips rubs the other man's cock along the crack of his ass. It reminds him just how badly he wants to get on with things. 

"Are you done?" Marshall's hands are sliding down his back, coming to rest at his hips to pin them still. Still breathless Colson nods, a bit too light headed to talk. "Good." The hands on his hips rubs up his back, digging into tense muscles and helping to relax him more. He knows this is Marshall's way of apologizing, being the one thing the rapper prefered expressing in actions over words. 

It goes on for a minute or two and Colson's rapidly beating heart settles within his chest, a soft sigh finally escaping his lips when the brunette stops. Marshall leans forward and presses their bodies flush together for a moment, snatching up the shirt Colson had tossed to the head of the bed. The blonde misses the warmth against his skin when he sits back up, dropping the shirt onto his lower back, eyes fluttering open to see what the other man is doing now. He gets his answer in way of his arms both being crossed over the fabric, he already knows what the rapper is doing before he even loops the first sleeve. "The collar isn't enough?" 

"If I had realized you were going to be this badly behaved I would've bought a muzzle and harness too." Marshall sighs as he tightens the first knot, looping the other sleeve around them as well to tie a second. When he's finished Colson gives a curious tug at his makeshift restraints, knowing that if he wanted to he could probably rip the fabric enough to get loose. Colson swallows at the slew of imagery the comment inspires, he's actually relieved that Marshall hadn't thought the purchase through too thoroughly. 

He can't help but grind down in the mattress once more, the motions from their movements pulling the sheets along his cock. The earlier near smother had deflated his erection some but he was still hard and raring to go. Feeling his movements Marshall rewards him with a sharp slap to his ass, the sting drawing out a gasp and moan from the blonde. Then he was sliding backwards and pulling Colson's hips into the air. 

Positioning him so his ass is up and his face still down, if the blonde felt embarrassed before then he can only describe his current emotion as humiliation. His head twists around to watch the older man as he gets up and off the bed to snag the lube off of the night stand. The angle allows him to appreciate Marshall's body, the soft glow of their bedside lamps casting shadows across his lean chest and tattoos. For what he lacks in height the brunette make up for in lean muscle, a bit of a health freak ever since he got clean. If Colson had a guarantee that he would look like a taller version of that after quitting everything cold turkey he might consider it, probably still wouldn't give up his weed though. 

The older rapper catches him looking and Colson can see a sly smile tugging at his lips, it makes his heart flutter. The more they get together and do this the more of those small moments he gets to see, the stoic mask slipping. At first it was only when they were in the middle of sex or on a rare occasion when he caught the man off guard but the last month had indicated a shift in their relationship. 

Colson isn't able to linger on the thought because suddenly hands are on him, squeezing the cheeks of his ass. He groans and shifts so he can look back over his shoulder, the collar digging into his chin. That stupid fucking phone is back in Marshall's hands, and he wants to swing a foot up and kick it away. "Are you fucking serious?" 

There's a hand spreading his ass apart and Colson is torn between groaning again and cursing the older man out. "What happened to pictures being fucking stupid?" A flash lights up the room and his foot does finally kick out, narrowly missing the man behind him.

"At least turn the fucking flash off!" His whole face feels like it's on fire, eyes squeezed shut and pressed into the pillow. "I know you're fucking old but c'mon,"

Cold liquid against his hole has his eyes shooting open, a strangled sound escaping his throat. A thumb tugs at the rim and dips inside, he's so pent up that the action has his hips stuttering backwards. "F-fuck, get on with it already." 

A finger slides inside suddenly, the unexpected intrusion making his back arch and a groan rumble in his throat. Marshall runs a comforting hand down his back as the finger thrusts in and out, quickly being joined by a second. While the stretch isn't painful, it's uncomfortable, and has him tending. The hand rubbing his back travels higher to ruffle the hair at the nape of his neck when he begins scissoring them. 

Colson can't help but pull at his restraints desperate for some kind of attention to his cock, in his current position he can't even brush it against the bed. Marshall is only shallowly thrusting his fingers inside him, enough to stretch but not brush the bundle of nerves deep inside. In a desperate attempt to feel some relief he pushes his hips back on the next thrust, a moan tumbling out when Marshall accidentally swipes it.

A third finger joins, and the hand in his hair slides back down to grab the long forgotten leash. Suddenly Marshall picks up the pace of his preparation, digits moving fast and roughly into him. The burn of it has him gasping, his dick twitching in interest. The three fingers jab his prostate on the next thrust, stirring his hips into motion. Colson can't stop the moan that spills out. Breath hitching when Marshall jerks his grip back and it chokes him, no hands free for him to lift himself.

His back is arching at an uncomfortable angle with how tight Marshall is pulling the lead, spots dancing in front of Colson's vision. The blonde lets out a strangled cry from the stimulation, sucking in air when he crashes into the pillow, Marshall apparently releasing his grip on the leash.

Curses are stumbling out of his mouth, along with just unintelligible babble. He still feels light headed when Marshall presses himself against his entrance. The sound of his own heart pounding in his ears is all Colson can hear, his cock is throbbing in tune with it as well. "Ready?"

Hands are rubbing circles into his hips awaiting an answer. Colson groans and turns his head meet Marshall's gaze. Icy blue eyes bore into him, not moving until he defeatedly nods. 

Even with the preparation the stretch is painful, stealing the air out of his lungs as his body struggles to accommodate the foreign object. His breath doesn't come back to him until Marshall stops halfway through. His forehead coming down to rest at the center of Colson's back, a low groan rumbling deep within his chest. "Fuck, so tight," 

A hand slips around the blonde's chest and pulls him back and upright. The movement slides the older rappers cock deeper inside him, drawing a moan out of his lips. Their lips meet in a messy kiss, Marshall's hand holding his jaw in place. 

A hand slides down his chest that jumpstarts his heart into another erratic rhythm, in the position he can't help but moan loudly into the other man's mouth when his cock is finally fisted. Hips stuttering forward desperate for release, he's rewarded with several long strokes before Marshall's hands move, one going to rest at his hip and the other reaching back to hold him by his restrained arms. 

Colson's upper half falls forward some, a hiss slipping out from the strain on his shoulder blades. Marshall trails love bites between them as his hips rock forward, fully sheathed inside now. Their thighs are sticking together from the sweat, Colson feels like he's burning up inside. The shower he had taken earlier feeling like a complete waste. His gaze trails down and lands on the leash dangling from his neck, the sight makes his cheeks flush harder than they already are. 

"Take the shirt off," his voice comes out as a whine, even though the older man's hips are only moving at a slow pace, combined with the burn in his shoulders it is too much. 

"Dogs don't give orders," The rappers thrusts turn harsher, Colson can feel the outline of teeth pressing into his shoulder blade. He knows what the older man's going to say before the words even form on his tongue, but they still knock a groan out of him regardless. "They beg."

"F-fuck, Marshall, please," it comes out as a near shout and tapers off into a whine when his prostate is suddenly hit. The next thing Colson knows his face is back in the pillow, the other man using his grip on the blondes restraint to hold him in place while he fucks him brutally. His sweet spot is being hit with every hard thrust, loud moans smothered by the pillow. The pleasure is so mind numbing that he doesn't even notice when the man begins unwinding the shirt, only realizing his arms are freed when they drop along his sides. 

His shoulders ache as he moves them so his palms are pressing into the sheets, fingers digging in the same way Marshall's dig into his hips. The angle allows the shorter man to really pound into him, to the point that Colson's voice starts hitching with every impact. He's losing the ability to think, mind blocking out anything that isn't the sweet slam of his partner's cock inside him. 

He's close, heat pooling in his stomach, he can't help but shove a hand downward. Fingers circling around his own leaking dick, the contact knocks a particularly high pitched sound from his throat. It causes Marshall to stutter in his movements behind him, his pace slowing before he suddenly pulls out. The noise Colson makes is undeniably a whimper, need clear as day in the way his throat chokes around it. 

His legs are shaking when Marshall hooks an arm under his thigh and flips him onto his side. He should feel embarrassed by how big of a stain his spit and sweat leaves on the pillow. But he's too far gone to care, glazed eyes staring up at the older man above him filled with nothing but desire. Marshall's hands are quick to slide up and pin Colson's own to the bed, their lips meeting for a deep kiss. The older man has to stretch himself out over the length of the blonde to reach, a grunt escaping his lips when they part. "God you're too fucking tall," the comment knocks a chuckle out of the younger rapper. 

Colson surges up and connects their lips once more, mind floating on cloud nine as he trails his lips down the other male's throat. "Maybe you're too fucking short." The comment gets the hands pinning his wrists to slide up and pin him back to the bed by his throat. He can't help but miss the contact with Marshall's palm that's blocked by the thick strap of leather wrapped around his neck. The brunette only puts enough pressure to hold him there, his free hand grabbing the back of Colson's knee to push it up to his chest and down around outside his body. 

Wrapping his legs around the other rapper is instinctive at this point, his hips thrusting up to slide their cocks together. It knocks a groan out of both of them, Colson's eyes glued to the other man's face. He lives for how expressive he is during sex, poker face slowly breaking apart. If he wasn't already so far gone he would be seizing every opportunity available to him in the position to rile him up. But he doesn't, not this time because he needs to come, his balls are starting to get sore from being so hard for so long. 

So instead he throws all care to the wind and cries out the brunette's name, putting all of his needs into two syllables. It drags out in the ghost of a whine, and as expected it triggers an almost pained look from above him. Marshall curses and drags his hands down Colson's tatted chest, only stopping when they reach the pale spread thighs, slipping down and cupping the back of them to lift up. 

Despite the previous rough fucking he still needs to put force behind his first thrust, the tight hole always resisting letting him in. Colson groans and brings his own arms up to grip the pillow beneath his head. Marshall doesn't waste time letting him readjust just resumes his previous steady pace, his eyes fluttering closed. Colson's breath is hitching again, fingers bunching up in the sheets. He struggles to keep his eyes open through the pleasure, not wanting to miss a moment of the brunette's steadily unraveling composure. It's just as effective at carrying him to the edge as the powerful thrusts are, the blonde could probably get off on watching Marshall's face alone.

It's something he will probably never voice, for fear that the older man will realize just how much his guard has slipped. But it is equal parts unbelievably hot and cute, the latter thought one that would definitely get him in trouble. There is just something in the way Marshall's face twists, how he bites his lip, or how his mouth falls open and a higher pitched moan might spill out sometimes. It just makes Colson melt, Marshall can ask him anything in that moment or in the tired too soft tone he takes on after and the blonde would probably agree. No matter how ridiculous.

"F-fuck, Colson," Hearing his name stutter out of breathless lips is what pushes Colson right to the edge, his hands reaching out to cup the brunette's face, bringing their lips together in a messy open mouthed kiss. Marshall must notice the change in his moans, or maybe the way his body tenses because then there's finally a fist closing around his throbbing cock. It only takes three firm strokes before Colson is spilling. His vision whiting out momentarily and his whole body tensing. 

Marshall's thrusts pick up speed and lose their rhythm, now just on an erratic chase for his own climax. The pleasure is enough to keep Colson shuddering and twitching through his own afterglow, every part of his body becoming hypersensitive. Marshall's face is buried in Colson's chest, his fingers digging into the blondes hips so hard he can feel it down to the bone. 

The brunette is mouthing words into his collarbones, no sound coming out of his throat outside of pleasured groans. Colson's heart lurches in his chest, mind jumping to all the gooey things the man could be silently saying. It's a stupid thought, they're not in love, this isn't some end all relationship steadily growing towards its happy ending. They're just hooking up, sometimes flying hundreds of miles to see one another and screw.

His eyes definitely don't have tears starting to form, and his arms aren't wrapping around the others shoulders because he wants to pull him close. It's all just because of the overstimulation, and that's what Colson keeps repeating to himself as Marshall picks his head up and looks at him with those soft blue eyes. So full of raw emotion and just need before closing again so he can press forward and mold their lips together. His hips stuttering on the last few thrusts before he's climaxing, filling the blonde up. 

Colson pretends not to notice how Marshall's thumbs rub small circles into his hips or how in his own pleasurable haze the man's kisses become just that much slower and sweeter. Doesn't pay attention to how after he's pulled out and rolled onto his side next to him his hand stays on the blondes stomach, fingers splayed out to touch as much skin as they can reach.

"Can...can I take this off now?" The blonde is fiddling with the hook of the leash, trying to focus on anything but the thud of his own heart. Marshall's head picks up off the pillow slightly, tired eyes twitching open in sudden remembrance. Then he's pushing himself up and yawning, fingers reaching up to knock Colson's away gently and undoing the leash. It's carelessly dropped off the side of the bed.

There's a strange air to the silence in the room as Marshall stretches and reaches over the edge of the bed to root for something. Colson can't help but break it with a smart comment, wanting to return to their usual bickering. "What, two times too much for you?" He wonders if Marshall will pick up on the irony of his statement considering how breathless and wrecked he himself sounds. The brunette's only response is an amused hum which makes Colson flush and pull himself up onto his elbows. Curious as to what the older man is so adamant on finding.

The collar is still a heavy weight around his neck and his fingers are itching to just reach up and unbuckle it but the desire to wait and see what Marshall is still planning outweighs it. The rapper makes an annoyed grunt and suddenly his jeans are on the bed, hands rooting through the pockets. Colson's eyes rove over the plane's of his back while he searches, a nervous feeling starting to well up in his stomach. "What? Did you lose your dick pills? We don't really have time for a round three if you plan on sleeping before catching your flight out tomorrow," the nervous laugh that escapes him finally draws the other rappers attention.

"Oh fuck off.." Marshall's tone is annoyed but his voice is still surprisingly soft. "..I got you something…" the quiet confession is enough to get the blonde's heart thumping again, body jerking up into a proper sitting position.

"You what?" Colson can hear his own blood rushing in his ears, eyes widening and watching as Marshall flips the jeans' over to dig in the back pocket, loose change, lint, and just small crumpled notes starting to pile up on the bed as he empties them. His wallet is tugged out and Colson can see the edge of metal peeking out from between it. Evidently it's what the man was looking for since he lightly tosses it down and then begins stuffing his junk back into his pants in fistfuls. The blondes eyes can't leave the wore down black leather, mind racing to decipher just what the hell Marshall is planning on giving him.

Then it's snatched up, and out of view. A soft tinkle of metal against metal breaking the tense silence between them. Marshall is turning to face him, a concentrated look on his face. Gift hidden in his clenched fists, his free hand stroking the edge of Colson's jawline. The blonde doesn't know whether to be glad that icy eyes are refusing to meet his own for once. "Close your eyes for a sec,"

"Mar-"

"Just fucking humor me. Alright?" Reluctantly Colson follows his order, having to swallow down a nervous lump that had formed in his throat. He can feel Marshall's fingers fiddling with the collar around his neck, loosening it even more. So much so that Colson actually believes it's coming off but instead he feels the brunette replace the buckle. A few more seconds pass and suddenly there's cold metal tickling his skin and Marshall's fingers are gone. 

Peeking an eye open the first thing he sees is an absolutely affectionate look on the older rapper's face, icy blue eyes trailing over whatever it was he had done. The look floors Colson, just makes everything stop working in his head. When he's caught snooping Marshall surprises him yet again, instead of reverting back to his usual neutral expression he just smirks. Fingers reaching out and tugging at the slack collar.

Reaching up Colson is mildly confused, not noticing anything different until he pulls the leather out. A set of dog tags clink together from where they had been hooked. Instantly his cheeks flush, and embarrassment starts bleeding through his veins. "There's a chain somewhere, I think I forgot it in the bag." 

Marshall is leaning back on his hands, eyes never straying away from the tags as Colson pulls them up closer to look at. "Seemed like the perfect match to go with the collar…. "

They're mostly blank except for a tiny inscription on each, so small the blonde has to squint to see them in the low lighting. Their initials are etched into both, M.M on one and C.B on the other. It's stupid, ridiculously juvenile, and just the lowest effort one could put into a dog tag. But Colson knows Marshall, and knows he doesn't do anything low effort, the reasoning behind it all is clear as day. The print is so small and so inconsequential so that it wouldn't be picked up by cameras during an interview or even noticed by a passerby. The inscription only visible to someone he got intimately close with, and allowed to find. An offer for him to officially be the other's bitch, in all senses of the word. To let Marshall put a silent claim on him that only the two of them would be aware of. 

But he's also aware that if he were to tell the older man to fuck off and just discarded them, pretended he didn't realize the deeper meaning behind them that Marshall wouldn't press the issue. Would just drop it and never mention the offer again. Which is what he should do, he should just make some smart ass comment about how he already said at the beginning of the night he wasn't a pet. But of course he doesn't, the pathetic organ in his chest tightening and forcing a warm fuzzy feeling to fill up his core. 

"What the fuck is the point of me wearing my own initials?" Marshall's eyebrows shoot up a fraction, his response not expected. Colson ignores him and starts fumbling to unhook the one dog tag, cheeks burning at how uncomfortably long it takes for him to finally do it. Then he's slapping it into the brunettes chest, his palm holding the small tag in place as he continues. "If I'm wearing one, you better put it on too." 

Marshall's heart speeds up just the slightest or maybe Colson imagines it, the soft thump, thump, thump vibrating the chest beneath his palm. His eyes stay locked there until fingers come up and cup around his hand, finally drawing his gaze up to see the older man's reaction. Marshall is wearing a smug half smirk. Colson lightly shoves him back and let's the tag drop, ignoring the ache in his hips and ass to climb up off the bed and storm towards the shower. "Or fucking don't, I don't care!"

If the next day Colson silently moves his tag over to a necklace chain he already had in his luggage and Marshall nonchalantly wears his around his neck neither say anything. Just go about their morning, bickering somewhat about tour dates and the media. Colson jokes about having a quickie and Marshall rolls his eyes and reminds him to actually eat breakfast for once. They don't kiss goodbye when one finally leaves for their flight, or voice how empty the room feels. Because neither wants to admit it's not just hooking up now, that it's something more.

**Author's Note:**

> Gets a bit fluffy at the end because I was bombarded with too many cute prompts for them while finishing it and didnt want to go back rewrite it before posting. So hope you all enjoyed!


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